Final Form
by Babytree
Summary: This is time travel story I've wanted to read for a long time, so I'm writing it myself. After the Battle of Yavin and the Rebel Alliance's success (post RotJ), Luke struggles to cope with rebuilding society and the loss of many a loved one. When mysterious circumstances allow him to visit the past, will he change it for the better, or perhaps change himself, instead?
1. Faint

" _If I could turn back time,_

 _If I could find a way…."_

\- Cher

* * *

"Who's to say that the Rebels aren't the real villains here? The economy has been devastated, law enforcement is nearly nonexistent, health care, unemployment and ambassadorial policies have all been wiped out. We are doomed. What is freedom, if we are leaderless?"

"Thank you, Mister Ra'sier. We've got to take a break, but next up we'll hear from Sir Airian Voss, and Coruscant's new Senate-resurrection plan. Stay tuned!"

Luke rolled over the thin, military-grade mattress as his hand slammed the large, illuminated OFF button of the bedside clock. He looked blearily at its digital numbers, their bluish glow demanding the start of another day. He flopped onto his back. The entire room, much like the rest of the quickly assembled Rebel base of Endor, was gray. Inevitably, his eyes found the plastic-covered ceiling.

So quickly the partying and rejoicing that came with liberation had ended and dissolved into panic and stress. The galaxy and its respective planetary systems were free of the Emperor's tyranny, yes, but also of their common rule. The Imperial Ruling Council was gone, and people suddenly had to think for themselves. They were like slaves, running around, confused without their master. The Emperor had controlled trade. He controlled education. He oversaw transportation units, information broadcasting and the HoloNet which, so recently re-opened to the public, seemed bent on trashing the Rebel Alliance when it's poorly organized airing schedule wasn't hissing static on the air. The galaxy, at least for now, was lost without him.

Luckily, the motley assemblage of political and wartime leaders that had taken the place of the Imperial Senate had ceased to argue, at least mostly and the general consensus seemed to be in favor of rebuilding the Old Republic...That idealistic dream that rode on the whispers the old fashioned and prejudiced. It was a long shot, but maybe it would work, and that was enough of a reason to hope.

And yet.

And yet, Luke couldn't shake the heavy feeling from the pit of his stomach. Life was a whirlwind around him. He had been ranked a general, even before the new military had a chance to be formed. The war was over, and he had every reason to be ecstatic. After all, he had his friends and his family by his side.

Friends, except for Ben, Yoda and Biggs. Family, except for Aunt Beru, Uncle Owen… And Father.

Adrenaline had allowed Luke to throw around that term, "father" as it had been needed. He had been able to tell Leia the truth about their family, but ever since the craziness had died down, the queasy reality had settled in. His father was a Sith Lord. Even if he had truly experienced redemption, Darth Vader was a merciless, master of evil. Had he been alive, he would have been tried for his crimes against galactic life or, more likely executed by a political vigilante or mob of vengeful civillians, as so many Imperial officers were. He was a prime reason that anyone bearing the name, "Skywalker," should not be a Jedi.

What had driven his father to betray the Jedi and Ben? He reckoned he'd never know. What had to happen to the soul of a hero, to render its light into a force so deadly, so obscene? These were the questions that haunted Luke, that spoiled in the depths of his spirit and, amidst the turmoil of the world around him, pushed him into stifling sadness. If only he could have helped the wretched man, somehow. So much he would give, if he could rewrite history- if he could make the changes that would save lives and so much heart ache.

Damn. What was it about sorrow that called for such tall orders?

"Luke? Luke?!"

Luke blinked several times, pulled out of his musings. He couldn't entirely suppress the grin that his sister's impatience brought. Even if he felt hopelessly weighted, Leia was sharp enough to liven even the weariest souls.

"Luke- Oh," She stopped in her tracks, standing in the doorway when she found him, still in bed.

She huffed and, shaking her head, trudged into the room. As she shoved the window-panel up, light flooded the cubical room and made Luke squint.

"You were supposed report to base, seven clicks ago," She chided. "Admiral Vinci needs you to approve the deployment program from Endor. If we don't download and relay the ambassador's com link files by- Are you listening?"

Luke blinked again. Why was it so hard to stay focused?

"Yeah...Yes. Right, okay. Let me get dressed, I'll meet you down there. Fifteen ticks, I swear." He tried to manage a smile, but it came out meek and weird. It didn't seem to fit anymore.

Leia watched him, her lipsticked lips pursuing slightly before she rolled her eyes.

"Fine," She told him. "Make it thirteen, we don't have time. Everything is due yesterday." She made her way for the door, the exit swooshed automatically open. "Also, we have Boonta Eve flat bread in the mess hall. Maybe you're interested."

If Luke hadn't been watching, he wouldn't have noticed the quiet smile that flashed across his sister's face at the mention of one of Luke's old favorites, before she rushed back into the hallway. It was hard on her, too, but she was doing her best to support him, and everyone else.

Dressing was simple. He wore the same outfit, a black tunic, simple pants and boots everyday. They never managed to stray far in his small, empty living quarters. His lightsaber was clipped safely to his belt; it was beginning to feel more natural there.

As he exited his room, a gust of cool air from the rest of the base rushed into his face. His skin felt sort of clammy and damp suddenly, but it could always be cured with food. When was the last time he had eaten, anyway?

Making his way to the mess hall proved to be no easy task. Everyone wanted something from him this morning.

"Luke!" Lando's familiar voice called out. He motioned over for Luke to review the tactics for an air relief mission.

"General!" Admiral Ackbar needed his signature.

"Master Luke!" C-3PO cried out, R2 had gone missing.

Luke himself was beginning to feel stranger and stranger, still. It seemed to him that he was caught in that pre-sick phase, with a throat that felt slightly too dry to be normal, a cold sweat and a pulsing headache.

Perfect. This was all he needed.

He staggered into the mess hall, the air smelling of dish water and fresh bread. The ground seemed a little shaky, but before Luke could step into the food line, a HoloNet droid buzzed over, it's clunky, spherical form dashing through the mess hall and stopping short, only to hover expectantly in front of Luke's face.

Immediately it snapped a few photographs, the flash stunning Luke. A humanoid voice came from the droid,

"Luke Skywalker, as the newest general, what are your plans to rebuild the military and defense after Lord Vader's disappearance?"

Luke rubbed his eyes,

"Blast...Who let this droid in here? Somebody get it out of my-"

"Luke Skywalker, as the newest general, what are your plans to rebuild the military and defense after Lord Vader's disappearance?" The droid repeated itself, awaiting some key words to signify an answer.

He rubbed his face. Something was not right. This headache was relentless...

"Luke Skywalker, as the newest general, what are your plans to rebuild the military and defense after Lord Vader's disappearance?"

He growled, half heartedly making a move to swipe at the hovering globe, but missing under the shakiness of his legs. People were beginning to stare, and even though Luke now technically outranked them, he flushed with embarrassment.

Stumbling backward, he struggled to maintain balance while the droid snapped more pictures, the lights flickering before his eyes.

"Hey, kid are you alright?"

A familiar voice asked, but it didn't quite register with Luke. He swayed, standing in the middle of the of the mess hall's tiled floor, alongside a sea of tables and chairs.

"Someone get him a-"

With a heavy sigh, the chaos of the room silences and Luke was relieved of his delirious swaying, as the floor rushed up to meet him.

* * *

 **Author's Note** Stay with me, I swear I'm going somewhere with this. From here on out, I'll be shoving the 'T' rating to its extent with mild adult themes here and there, so just be warned if you're sensitive. Review this, but only if you want to.

Love,

BT


	2. Organized Chaos

_"Nor have I seen a mightier man-at-arms on this earth than the one standing here: unless I am mistaken, he is truly noble."_

 _-_ Beowulf

* * *

"Alright, men. There's a weak spot in the hull of Grievous' ship where the ray shields imploded."

General Anakin Skywalker of the Grand Republic Army and Knight of the Jedi Order stood, back straight and tunic pressed; He was a tall, younger man with a fair amount of earned muscle and, despite the roguish tousle of his sand-colored hair and a common place cocky smirk, there was something princely about him, and a burning passion beneath his deep blue eyes. He commanded diligence and attention. Continuing, meeting the eyes of each seated Clone soldier with occasional gestures to the hologram model in front of him he said, "We infiltrate there with a squad of four Starfighters, no reinforcements, so we'll have to make this quick and accurate. Take evasive squad positioning, but prepare to fire on my ready. Any questions?"

Commander Cody stood from his chair, at attention

"Sir, we are greatly outnumbered. How are we going to face the Vulture droids and Destroyers? That bucket of bolts is crawling with tinnies, how will we infiltrate with them blocking us?"

True, that. General Grievous never came to a battle without an army of battle droids. Attempting to infiltrate the hull was bold at the least, insane at the most. Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi eyed his apprentice suspiciously, observing from the back.

Anakin quirked a small grin as he answered, "Easy. I'll lead." He could feel Obi-wan rolling his eyes from the back row. "Fall out, troopers! Everyone to your station!"

The Clones disbanded, double-timing to their posts.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan began, falling into brisk step with his old apprentice, following him off to the aircraft hangar. "There's a fine line between wise and crazy, and you're flirting with it. You're putting your squad at risk, and furthermore, you cannot preach thorough thinking to your Padawan while you're flying recklessly into chaos."

"Speaking of which..." Anakin remembered, pressing the comlink on his wrist, "Ahsoka, come in. Meet me in hangar two-twenty two. I'm gonna need you to standby with your squadron."

He looked up, glancing at Obi-Wan as he walked on. On the rare occasion, he couldn't tell if the Jedi Master was genuinely worried for the safety of others, or if he simply enjoyed making battle strategies difficult and the dryly concerned tone that veiled his Coruscanti accent was just natural.

"Have some faith in me, master. Grievous is looking for me. As soon as he recognizes my fighter, all firepower is on me and not- Hey, stop worrying. My squad is just as safe as it always is."

With that, Anakin escalated to a jog into the hangar, leaving Obi-Wan to frown and shake his head and call, "That is _not_ very reassuring!"

 **OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

Anakin nodded to Fives and Red, yes they should replace their fighters' power converters, and no they wouldn't need to prep Astromechs for their own jets. R2 had it covered. The Clones sturdily voiced their understanding and took their leave, just in time for Ahsoka Tano to walk into the hangar.

She bowed her head once, too diligent, too sturdied by the moment, too exposed to wartime peril at this point to waste time on a girlishly blushed apology, or the sass that trademarked her comments just a short year ago.. She was direct, "Master. I'm sorry I was delayed. Rex noticed an oddly marked cruiser floating near Separatist space, unidentified but unarmored and no weapons readied. The passenger was unconscious with a minor head wound- Master Kenobi and Admiral Yularen ordered him into the medical bay. He'll go through questioning when he comes to. What's the status on the mission?"

Anakin raised an eyebrow but shook his head, dismissing the concept of a stranded ship. Occasionally there were citizens in Mid-rim systems that were daft enough to take a joy ride out in wild space, only to drift unknowingly to the borders of enemy lines. With a fine to pay and an escort, the driver would be on his way before the fireworks began.

"We're going to work our way into Grievous' ship. We'll grab the hostages and we're out free. Stay ready."

 **OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

The pain seeped in by degrees.

Sore.

Luke felt a throbbing pulse somewhere on the left side of his head. "That's strange," he thought casually, a heavy fog sitting over him as he pulled his eyes open, staring dazedly at florescent lights above.

Sharp.

A sharp, splitting feel dissolved into his senses, as if part of his head had been ripped like parchment.

Burn.

Finally, he became fully aware. His hand flew to the wound on his left temple, only to be pulled away in recoil. _**Kriff.**_ A gauzy pad with bacta jelly had been stuck on the gash, but that didn't take away the raw sting of the apparent char to his flesh.

 _What happened?_

He glanced around- a white room. White bed, white bed sheets, white curtains...The tiled floors, scratched from many visitations with a scrub brush were probably intended to be white, also, however they gleamed a well-used grayish color. Red paint, chipped with wear, came into coherence above the rectangular shaped door, naming the little square room, "INFIRMARY, NO. 7"

Totally bizarre. Luke sat up in the rickety, hospital-type bed. His back felt okay, that was a good sign. He tapped his comlink, attempting to connect to Endor's control center, but he received no signal. Reflexively, he patted down his waist. Nothing.

"Oh, no..." He murmured, his brow furrowing in concern, "My lightsaber."

The door wooshed open with an electronic beep. Luke froze. Jammed comlink signal, no weapon; wherever he was, it wasn't the familiar Rebel base.

A man, maybe in his late thirties, reddish hair, wearing tawny colored tunics entered the room, along with two Storm troopers. Luke jolted, swinging his legs out of bed, readying himself. He may have been weaponless, but he was far from defenseless.

"There will be no need for that, my friend." The man smiled vaguely beneath his well-groomed beard. Luke assessed him; Coruscanti accent. Well maintained appearance. Perhaps an extremist, still loyal to the Empire, trying to take a powerful hostage.

The man continued, "I am general Kenobi. We noticed your cruiser on our scanners..." His voice trailed off as one of the troopers exited the infirmary, only to re-enter and produce Luke's lightsaber.

The man stared into Luke's now very wide eyes, searching. After a long pause he asked, voice quiet, but steady and intent, "Who in blazes are you?"

Before Luke could answer, a massive quake shook the ground, followed by the creak of metal beams. Somewhere outside, an stifled alarm began blaring.

The man activated his comlink, "Admiral! What is going on down there?"

A technologically processed voice answered, hurried but steady, "The central engines have been hit, general. Power to the main processors and cannons have been compromised."

"Raise the shields." The man commanded, "Kenobi, out."

He turned to the troopers, "Stay with him, he does not leave this room."

"Sir, yessir!"

With that, he exited as quickly as he had entered.

Luke remained, sat stupidly up in bed.

A cold chill ran through him, "Kenobi?" He thought to himself. "A coincidence," he tried to reason. He looked to the troopers, posted on either side of the door. Armed with blasters, but only on guard. They could be deemed a non-threat, for now.

Whatever was going on here, Luke wasn't about to stay and wait for answers. The man, whoever he was, would figure out soon enough that a lightsaber equaled Jedi Knight Luke Skywalker, a name which could very well induce sticky conflict with those opposing the Rebellion.

"Hey, fellas," Luke called to the troopers, catching their attention. He waved his hand in a slight gesture, "You don't want to stand guard..."

The troopers paused and, sure enough, they repeated automatically, in two voices that, oddly, seemed so similar that they sort of melted together, "We don't want to stand guard..."

Perfect. Luke focused, "You want to go...Take a break."

"We want to go...Take a break," The troopers nodded at each other as they turned to leave, as if the decision to go relax had been a clever one of their own.

He jumped out of bed, making a dash for the door. Using the power of the Force, he shoved one Trooper into a wall, his helmeted head thumping against the hard surface and knocking him unconscious. Luke snagged the second trooper's blaster with the upward pull of his palm. The weapon flew to him, and the young Jedi swiftly thumped the butt of it on the poor soldier's skull.

Reaching for him, Luke lifted the fainted man's helmet off. Next came the body armor- thank the Force he was wearing a bodysuit underneath.

He tucked the temporarily fallen officer, number two in the infirmary bed, donning the Storm Trooper attire quickly. With the push of a button, the infirmary door slid open revealing organized chaos.

Troopers, hundreds of them ran around in the wide hallway under the screams of the alarm that now greeted him at full volume. Their armored footsteps pattered rhythmically, and among them a few men in slightly varied gray uniforms jogged to their respective posts.

The scene wasn't all too familiar with Luke, but it was easy to recognize; an Imperial Star Destroyer and, by the looks of it, it was in the middle of a crisis. The fact that the Imperial Naval vessels in their entirety had all been repossessed by the senate was hardly relevant. Luke was a prisoner, and he couldn't waste time figuring out the details of the situation.

He tried his best to avoid stumbling and glancing, attempting to blend in with the rushed soldiers, just until he could figure out an escape. It was a trick he learned from Han- "If you act like you know where you're going, no one will bother you."

It was harder than it looked.

As Luke scurried along, the hallway opened up into a massive control center, the obvious heart of the ship. Tall blue screens gleamed with battle tactics and maps. Troopers manned computers. A few stately men in gray uniforms, bearing modest medals directed the traffic and, each manning a control station or their own laser cannon the ship and firing missiles, around thirty or so men stood erect...Each bearing the exact. Same. Face.

New reasoning. This was not a hostage situation, but a dream. Luke stood in the middle of a dream battleship, in a dream war, surrounded by dream people. It was ridiculous- clones hadn't been used for ten...What was it, maybe twenty years?

And yet, there they were. With the same dark skin, the same straight nose and the same, more or less, brown hair.

"Anakin!" The familiar voice from the infirmary cried out in that Coruscanti lilt. "Now is the time!"

Luke ducked his head slightly, trying to appear busy and inconspicuous at a control panel. The numerous buttons stared at him. From his corner, he could see the man had entered from the left side of the huge room and directed his shout towards the opposite side. Luke followed his gaze.

"I'm on it!" The apparent "Anakin" man answered with a growl. "I just have to- there you are!"

Oh, _no._

The reasoning that this was all a dream filled him with zero confidence as very real sweat began to head on his armor clad brow.

The "Anakin" man jogged over to Luke, "What is the matter with you?!" His voice came in a hushed bark, so as not to draw too much attention to the situation. Quiet as it may have been, the demand shook Luke of his internal conflict. "Get up," He ordered, "Come with me."

 **OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

The medical droid's inner circuits hummed, creating a soft, metallic vibration over its frame as it worked. It refilled the plastic bag that slowly dripped it's clear liquids through a tube, into the young man's wrist.

"Good Morning, senator Organa." The droid said automatically, as the female entered the proximity.

She moved the muscles of her face that signaled worry, and the droid could infer that she was concerned for the man's health.

"It is indeed type 77, senator. He could have contracted the virus from undercooked meat, but in any event the diagnostics have returned positive."

She mostly ignored droid, walking to the bedside where the man lay. She crouched down, despite her expensive looking dress that now touched the makeshift hospital's floor. At the moment, it was all that their little Endorian base could have afforded. Her hand brushed his hair away from his closed eyes.

"Oh, Luke," She whispered to him. "How did this happen? You be strong, we're all being strong for you, you know-" Her voice cracked.

Another man entered the room. "Good morning, general Solo," the droid recited, rolling to the sanitation unit to cleanse its forceps.

The pair embraced, lady burying her face in her counterpart's chest.

She murmured to him, "They said it could be anywhere from a week to several months. The virus is attacking his nerves. The antibiotic should help, and he's stable….For now."

The man stopped her, kissing the top of her head, "The kid's strong, Leia. He took out a fleet of Storm troopers and finished off both Death Stars as an afterthought. He'll be just fine."

"Just fine..." She whispered, more to herself than Han. Her dark eyes scanned the pale, unconscious face of her brother as he lay there, in the hospital bed. She could hope.

* * *

 **Author's Note** So, we have storyline A, where Luke has somehow been transported to the Clone Wars, and storyline B, where he is still on Endor and appears to have fallen quite ill. Which reality are you going with?

Love,

BT


	3. Stranger Victory

" _When things go wrong, don't go with them."_

\- Elvis Presley

* * *

Luke ran in step with the apparently hot-headed general in a trance-like daze. None of this, _none of this_ , conformed to the general confines of gods damned sense and at this point, he half expected rainbow hued Womp rats to start falling from the motherloving ceiling.

Suddenly, the general's quick gait halted, and he punctuated his run with a point to an empty battle station. "There. Go. Now!" He shouted, impatiently when Luke so obviously hesitated, before leaving him in the dust, surely for his X wing or what have he. Luke skittered over to the one-man cannon, one of seven in a horizontal line on the battle deck of the massive cruiser, where the soldier whose armour he had stolen was evidently supposed to be stationed among his peers. Indeed, the other Storm Troopers appeared to know what they were doing, and were firing rapid, but calculated rounds of laser bolts off into space, and towards the oncoming fleets of winged battle droids. Every shot was a high-pitched addition to the area's soundtrack of generic shouting, running and blaring alarms. This was one half of a war zone, to be sure but who was occupying the other half, Luke had no guess. The Rebellion, or the resurging Republic, rather certainly did not use battle droids.

"If I don't blend in, I'm going to get shot," Luke realized silently, and opting for heroics at a later time, when he fully understood his crazed surroundings, he instead chose to take a seat, mash the POWER button on his cannon and take aim.

 **OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

Anakin hustled through his flagship's lower launch deck. Most of the other pilots had already taken off, his Padawan included. And he would've deployed already, too if he hadn't had to babysit that lost clone. He sighed internally. He had his reasons, but they wouldn't help his growing reputation for lateness, among other things and they surely wouldn't save him from Obi-Wan's lecturing.

R2-D2 was waiting for him, already clicked into the starfighter. It was an Eta-2 _Actis_ -class Interceptor, and such a beauty, at that. He'd enjoyed augmenting its features, and souping up its rigs to mechanical perfection. The little Astromech beeped an excited greeting for Anakin who couldn't help but smile in return as he climbed into the one-pilot cockpit and prepared for take off. "Alright, buddy. Let's crash the party."

 **OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

A spacetime backdrop in the midst of war was a beautiful thing. If one could detach oneself from the reality of death and destruction, they might look out the window of their ship and be taken with the endless sea of stars and ebony scope, lit up to resemble lavender twilight with every blast of a laser cannon. Both lovely, and annihilating.

Weaving expertly through the pandemonium, Anakin flew to the forefront of the battle.

"Just in time, Master!" Ahsoka's voice rang clearly through his fighter's internal com system. "Greivous's ship has just arrived."

And, sure enough, _The Obsidian_ , the Subjugator-class, heavy cruiser that was the fearsome successor to _The Malevolence_ towered to the north, surrounded by a dense cloud of air assault droids. Well, there were certainly more than Anakin had figured- he'd have to give Rex that. "This is Gold Leader to Gold Squadron," Anakin radioed to his team, "Form up behind me."

 **OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

Eternities passed in minutes. Luke had never been part of internal assault forces before- he was always on the front lines and had been, until now unaware of the constant recalculating and readjusting that the soldiers and strategists in the background were responsible for. With every man shot down, their targets changed. With every missed shot of the squadron, they switched targets. With every moment passed, the chances that the alleged hostages on the planet Tecian would not be rescued increased. Being that Luke's current peers were losing the battle, that surely seemed the most likely outcome.

What the mysterious band of soldiers had apparently failed to account for was the ion cannons that this "General Greivous's" star destroyer was armed with. With every fire, the cruiser that Luke found himself on lost internal power. The navicomputers, the cannon power, the engines all completely shut down for a solid ten-count before the onboard crew was able to unjam the systems and jolt the ship back to life. The periods of dead time were devastating, and without the ship for backup, the fleet was unable to make any headway towards Tecian, and passed _The Obsidian._

Luke aligned his cannon with the windshield of an oncoming droid fighter, when the power went out yet again with an electrical, descending "VRRROOoooomm…" sound, as the battle deck dimmed and the secondary, emergency lights kicked on.

"Gold Leader, come in! Come in, Gold Leader! General Skywalker do you- Blast!" The trooper beside him slammed his fists on the dashboard of his respective cannon, frustratedly. He'd lost his connection with…

"General _Skywalker_?" Luke breathed, not above a whisper within his helmet. He squinted out into the warzone, and tried to find something, anything that would make sense. Could it be?

"We're down! We're down! All systems down! We're dead in space!" A chorus of voices panicked in the background when the power supply failed to be resurrected for the final time.

"May the Force be with you, sir," the trooper said to the ground, defeated. Luke felt the blood drain from his face.

"We have to overload their cannon!" Luke blurted out, and loudly too for the sudden idea that came to his mind was laced with disbelief and utter shock. With no power to continue waging war, the other fifty some troopers had plenty of time to shift and stare. "The ion cannon is attracted to the next highest concentration of electrical energy, other than itself, right?! Tell General Skywalker, he's got to collect the battle droids in one space and distract the cannon so he can move his fleet into Tecian's atmosphere without being-"

"You're no clone!" One of the troopers interrupted, flying to his feet from his battle station and drawing his blaster.

"We've got an imposter among us, brothers," another hollered and suddenly one, two then three of them were upon Luke, restraining him and dragging him away from the deck.

"No! Please! Please, someone tell him! It's his only chance!" Luke screamed from behind his helmet, his kicking and thrashing hardly any match for the strength of three soldiers, especially as flustered and confused as he was.

Acting on an impulse that came, quick as a flash of lightning he reached out mentally with the Force, and with one enormous grasp of the energy that transcended the confines of the cruiser, he pulled a flock of droids from the surrounding space, against their engines and into one coordinate amongst the stars. Sure enough, Greivous's cannon aimed, fired and soundly destroyed half the robotic army in an explosion of sparks and spare parts.

He breathed a sigh of relief, relenting to his arrest as he glimpsed the Gold Squadron woosh passed the action and to the surface of the periled planet. His captors paused a moment to see their victory, and again when the ship's power returned by some technological miracle. He heard cheering from the levels above the battle deck, and the cruiser quickly escaped into lightspeed.


	4. The Meeting

" _It seems to me we may have met…"_

" _Your face is not a face I would forget…"_

 _-_ Les Miserables

* * *

The brig of the flagship, _The Resolute_ had a tile floor and gray, concrete walls. There was one overhead light, and one exit, locked and guarded from the outside. A pair of stun cuffs were currently binding Luke's wrists together. He was exhausted, and thirsty.

These truths were the easy ones. It felt good to recite them in mind, and take stock of the obvious since there was so little of it. Now for the harder ideas to grasp:

"Number one…" Luke whispered to the silence, to himself. He was aboard a battleship whose status could not accurately be defined as either ally or enemy.

"Two…" The staff was primarily composed of Clones, even though the Imperial Department of Research and Biomedicine had outlawed their synthesis after The Clone War.

"Three…" Among the commanders of said Clones was Jedi General Anakin Skywalker.

 **OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

"It was a _rescue_ mission, Anakin and instead you galloped blindly into battle and required half the Republic Army to escape back into the Inner Rim with the hostages." Obi-Wan boarded an elevator with his former apprentice in tow.

"Are you done?" The younger man asked, pushing a button that sent the pair of them descending to the ship's lowest levels.

"No. And here you've been telling me that you're ever so ready to become a Master."

"I _am_ ready."

"No, you are not. When you can see that, you'll be ready," Obi-Wan clipped back without missing a beat. He paused a moment, straightened his robe and looked ahead. "Now I am finished," he concluded.

Anakin scoffed and threw his gaze up to the elevator's ceiling. "Well, the mission was successful, wasn't it? You have to give me that."

"No, I do not," Obi-Wan responded, "You won today because of some...Some imposter's errant antics."

"You know, you have to ride back to Coruscant with me," Anakin half warned, half joked. "And it's a _long_ trip."

The elevator's doors slid open, revealing the ship's humble jail cells. There were only three, and of them, only one was occupied. Instantly, Anakin laughed.

"Oh, Gods. He's just a...Kid. Cody had me thinking it was some bounty hunter." He looked at his friend, "You deal with this. I'm going to get some sleep."

The Jedi Master caught his wrist before he could pivot to leave. Focused, now rather intently on the unassuming, decidedly unthreatening and disappointingly familiar face in the jail cell, Obi-Wan greeted its owner with a sigh and the folding of his arms. "We meet again. You were unwise to leave the medical bay. You must realize, now that you will be tried for impersonating an officer and federal trespass. Most unwise, indeed."

The boy behind bars, hardly over twenty was ashen blonde and blue-eyed, the picture of a youthful innocent and a real shame to incarcerate. Some people could not be helped, Obi-Wan mused. Still, there was something familiar about him, beyond their previous meeting in the recovery room.

"What is your name?" Anakin rolled his eyes but did not deter Obi-Wan's questioning, "And where do you come from?"

"M-...Um. Ahem. My name is...Luke, sir," he answered nervously, and Obi-Wan began to wonder if he was under the influence of some hallucinogenic drug, for he seemed slightly delirious and quite confused. "I was from Tatooine...Originally."

"I see. Well, Luke. This is my counterpart, Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker and I am…" Immediately, he lost Luke's attention.

The man in question had crept forward across the floor of his jail cell, on his knees and now leaned directly against the bars, one set of fingers wrapping around them. As though mesmerized, he stared at Anakin, who's casual dismissal was slowly settling into vague discomfort.

"It seems you have an admirer," Obi-Wan murmured to the general, dry as ever.

Anakin shifted his weight. "With your obvious breaches in mind, Luke we are thankful for your effort today- What…How exactly did you intervene?" He asked.

Luke's eyes widened a bit. Obi-Wan recognized this as an internal "Oh, shit," for his ex Padawan was, a time ago, famous for such expressions.

"I just...I had a thought, and…" He was clearly struggling for an explanation.

Anakin's wrist comlink beeped twice. Time to go. He nodded at Obi-Wan who looked down at Luke once more with a cool tone, "We will return, I'm sure. In the meantime, rest."

 **OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

"He's force-sensitive," Anakin told Obi-Wan, the moment they once again entered the elevator, and once the doors closed on them.

"I felt it, too," he answered. "We will bring it before the Council. Heavens know who he _really_ is, or worse, who he's with."

Anakin nodded. He hadn't been looking for one, but even in that small span of time with Luke, or whatever his name really was, he could not deny the connection he felt with him in the vibrations of the Force. There was something about his face, or the personality behind it that he was sure he knew, somehow. But then, maybe only in a dream.

* * *

 **Author's Note** Thanks for reading, as always. Reviews give me life.

Love,

BT


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